Pandora's Box
by BlueEyes White Dragon Sorcerer
Summary: Everyone knows the story, but it depends on how you perceive the retention of hope. Was it left trapped to be kept from humans or was it left there for them? It doesn't matter now. HP/LV


**By** BlueEyes White Dragon Sorcerer

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it. Wish I did.

_**AN:**__ Feel lucky! I got this image in my head of Harry in an iron cage that was vaguely human shaped and only had eye slits, where others could see those pretty eyes when they were green and when they flashed red. Mnahaha! _

_Ah, and as much as I would love to update my fics every other day, I can't. I'm doing my best to work on them, but it's much more difficult than just sitting down and writing it out. I wish I could do that. #pouts#_

_#There was once a woman given unto man named Pandora.#_

He hated it - the stark white walls, the absence of noise except for his labored breathing, the fact that all those he cared about were the cause of this, the hissing voice in his head that was constantly reminding him that he had told him that this would happen. The restraints kept him from moving, the mask blocked all but two tiny slits of the room from his vision, and the collar around his neck prevented him from using and hardly _feeling_ his magic at all. The Boy-Who-Lived was locked away and practically forgotten about because he was Voldemort's last horcrux.

If he had _died_, would they be happy?! He had dodged that _'Avada' _because there was no reason to believe that his soul would be the one cast from his body. What would they have done had he not and it had activated the soul piece within him? They'd have two Voldemorts running around, that's what!

Unfortunately, no one seemed to see it that way and since he was Voldemort's _last_ and _only_ horcrux it had woken up when Voldemort died. Harry had hidden it well until Hermione remembered and mentioned it. His suddenly stiff body was all the proof she needed before cursing him unconscious.

Waking to a room full of Ministry officials, Order members, and Aurors had been most unpleasant. They did the tests and he was helpless to alter in any way the results. The _Daily Prophet_ soon had all sorts of outrageous articles about him being Dark and secretly working for You-Know-Who, not that Harry knew that, of course. He was busy being secreted away in some place that felt like a cross between the basement of Azkaban and a mental ward.

Hermione had come by once when he hadn't been in his cell long, begging for his forgiveness and that it was for his own good. Did no one trust him? Harry Potter had been defying the Dark Lord since he was fifteen months old. Why could they not trust him to continue? The muggleborn had left fearfully when she noticed his signature green eyes flash red. No one else had ever come to visit.

The Malfoys were about the only ones left of Voldemort's servants, but they were undoubtedly flourishing now that the Dark Lord was gone. They always would, those backstabbing bastards.

Voldemort agreed with him.

_#Pandora was given many gifts.#_

When magic is locked away, it does one of two things: fades away into nothing or it roils around, growing and growing until it destroys its bonds and is freed. A large factor as to which way it goes is the emotions driving it are, sadness or anger. Harry was incensed by their lack of faith in someone who had always fought the Dark and Voldemort was furious at his defeat and resulting imprisonment within his downfall. Two guesses as to what their magic did.

_#Of those gifts, there was beauty, dexterity, grace, a sharp mind, many fine material things, and curiosity.#_

Sometimes he wondered why they didn't just kill him. Why not just have a dementor suck out both souls? Why not just behead him? Burn him at the stake? They were callous and cruel enough to repeat upon their lauded 'Savior' what their ancestors suffered at the hands of muggles, he thought. Perhaps it was simply because he was their _Savior_ that they did not kill him.

He swore that when he got free, they would need another savior because he would torture them all into madness. The Dark Lord basked in his malignant thoughts, egging him on and offering suggestions.

_#There was one other thing that was not really a gift, but rather that it was entrusted to her by Zeus, who told her to never open it.#_

They didn't know how much time had passed. Counting how many times the pitiful house elf shook with fear as it approached to administer the nutritional potion that kept them alive was futile since its timing was erratic for the single purpose of ensuring that neither of them would be able to ascertain how long it had been. Harry had stopped threatening it a long time ago, knowing it was useless.

Their magic continued to toil against the restraints.

_#Unable to resist the 'gift' of curiosity any longer one day, she opened the container.#_

The door to his cell was forced open one day with an eerily long _creak_. Harry's eyes had been open, but unseeing until the noise disturbed him. The sight of Ginny stoically held at the business end of an enemy's wand did not affect him as it once had with worry and the desire to protect her from harm. He wanted that wand and he wanted her death as she had been one of the many to betray him.

There were other strangers who swept into the room, some keeping watch, while others strode imperiously towards the iron suit that encased the Dark Lord and his horcrux, the Boy-Who-Lived and his eternal tormentor-turned internal voice of reason. A short incantation was all it took to release the locks, setting free the world's once-savior. Harry Potter stumbled forward a few steps, seemingly dead on his feet until with a _click_ the collar around his neck disintegrated.

A moment of silence passed in a heartbeat before their power extended from its cramped position within the fleshy confines of a body and stretched out, feeling those within the room and at the door. Green eyes flashed red when their gaze again came to rest on the familiar red-head.

_'Betrayer of both ourselves, what have you to say about your predicament?'_ The words were not spoken, but instead forced into her mind, echoing scathingly through the room for the benefit of the others. They all shuddered at the sound, the feel of oppressive magic pushing at them, commanding them to obey, submit.

"I have nothing to say to you, Voldemort!" She spat, glaring hatefully at the eyes that had shifted to be mostly red. Little did she know that it was Harry in charge and the smoldering hate that had caused his eyes appear red. Their magic latched onto her, squeezing her body and siphoning away any bit of power, of energy, it could find. Ginny struggled, screaming and eventually crying, as every last bit of her that could be used as fuel was devoured. Her dry husk was let drop to the floor carelessly. All of them would pay.

Those who freed him bowed low as to not incur his wrath. Voldemort was already hissing in his ear about how they were only worth how much they could help and that they could always kill the fools later if they caused problems.

_#All the evils of the world escaped to bring terror, suffering, and death to men.#_

_'They locked me away to save themselves and because of that I will be their doom. Obey me and you may be spared.'_ The words were ominous, yet promising the possibility of rewards. Each wizard and witch there decided right away that they would _not _get on the wrong side of the Dark Lord. That was what he was now if not by the media by the fact that he was going to rip the Wizarding World limb from limb.

At their new lord's beckoning, they followed without hesitation. No one wished to end up like Ginerva.

_#And when Pandora closed it, all that was left trapped within was hope.#_

Blood dripped down his hands and he could not keep a smile off his face. Number 12 Grimmauld Place was burning in the background, every last Order member dead. The Ministry had fallen the day before and the magical world was in chaos. Voldemort softly whispered instructions in his ear, instructions on creating a body to house his last bit of soul. _Hush, hush, I will not leave you. Yes, yes, we will always be together._

The houses closest to the Order's headquarters had caught fire, spreading it on to the next one and the next. Flesh burning, everything turning to ash, but there was no one left alive to flee. _No little rats to chase down for fun. Not this time, no._ The fire roared on, unheeded by the one who could stop it.

_The world is ours now and none can stop us. All those horrible chickens have lost their heads and are roasting away even as we speak. Our little minions will keep the fear and our hands shall shape the world._ Wood creaking under pressure, Number 12 collapsed, bringing down parts of 11 and 13.

Finally, he apparated away, to their new home. Riddle Manor had been destroyed in the last war. What Voldemort now affectionately called Slytherin Manor was what he had created for them to live, rule, kill, love in. Harry would make him a new body and he did not fear, did not worry, that anything would go wrong.

_When Harry Potter was released, it was then that hope was, just as all the other curses, gone from the rest of humanity._

Arching up, he screamed out his pleasure as his lover continued thrusting into him. Their panting breaths and the slapping of skin on skin echoed throughout the room. Harry peeled open his eyes, mouth slack under the assault of pleasure, and twitched his hands that rest on his knees, knees that were on either side of Voldemort's head. Upon seeing those green eyes revealed to him, said Dark Lord increased his pace, soon taking them both over the edge of what they could handle.

He slumped, seemingly boneless, against his lover. Still quivering, Harry wiggled his legs out from under his body, wrapping them around the other's hips instead. The weight on him was strangely comforting, a reward for believing and waiting.

"I'm happy," the green-eyed wizard managed to whisper, making Voldemort's lips twitch up slightly. His sweet horcrux was worth the pain, worth the wait, worth the loss.

"As am I," Voldemort murmured softly, stroking one hand through the younger male's hair. He was worth it.

_Hope is a curse when it is a false hope._

_**AN:**__ So? Was it worth it? Hee. Too morbid? Too short? Just right? _Tell me_ and maybe I'll find a way to update one of my chapter fics._


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